Lost and Found
by DemonicPiano
Summary: After days of wandering in a mysterious nation's woods, Ludwig finds himself in a camp of strange people in the middle of the forest. Of course that is weird, so he soon investigates why they are there.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note- The following story was going to be a one shot, but it was this looooooooooooong so I decided to chop it up into several chapters since it proved easier to read and edit in multiple chapters. The setting takes place during a fictional war, and no offense is intended to any Italians, war misperhaps, tomatoes, and/or whatever people get offended by these days. Toot-a-loo!_

* * *

Three minutes without air. Three days without water. Three weeks without food. Some people can survive longer than those guides, while others will perish sooner. It depends on where and which person whose life is at risk.

What about me? How long will I be able to continue walking pass that same tree for what I believed to be the seventh time? It is unusual of me to lose track of these things, including myself.

"Go and scout out the area in a three mile radius to see if it is safe to proceed!" The objective was given to two other men, all of us going in opposite directions. I already headed north for at least one mile. _At least._

I was uncertain, as much as it took to admit it, since the map I was referencing to, along with half of my supplies, including the radio I was using to communicate with my regiment spilled from a large rip in my backpack. I watched, unable to do anything but stare in horror from my captured predicament in a tree, as my supplies ran down the stream below the branches.

Once I tore and ripped the vines and branches hindering my escape, I managed to set my feet on solid ground with only several scratches and chewed palms. I was not too keen on climbing trees to scope out the landscape after that. I backtracked along the river to give chase, though that ended in dissaster, too. I never found my lost items, including my food supplies and the rest of the bullets to the rifle slung across my back.

So at the moment, I stationed myself against one of the trees I dug a score in the bark, another attempt to mark my progress. Yet when I thought I was covering more ground, I stumbled upon one I already ticked. It was important to rest after a half hour of vigorous travel, or was it an hour? Anyway, I kept a cautious hand on the gun laid across my lap, and the luggage I had to carry upside down from the rip on the bottom, in case anything in this forest tried to take advantage of my weary state.

I sighed, resting my head against the rough bark and dared to close my eyes, still keeping my ears pricked for any signs of danger. _I am not lost._ The tree to my left marked the spot where crossed the stream, much to the discomfort of my soaked feet, and before that, I came from the right.

Wait, I came from the right when I was over on the other side, so now that I face the other direction, would it still be right? Even before that, I could swear on beer itself that I curved left after a mile I set off from my first resting spot. So how far away did I travel from camp?!

"I am fully lost," I admitted. My eyes opened as my eyebrows knitted together. "Fully lost? Did I _just_ say that? What, before I was only half lost, or was I doomed from the start?"

I put a hand over my eyes, firstly, to block the Sun's overbearing rays peeking through the shedding branches, and because it was the only other way to express my defeat besides yelling and kicking like a child. Nightfall would arrive in a few hours, and I will be left out in the wilderness of...what nation's countryside was I stuck in?

My regiment traveled for so long after the last of the revived battles, that I do not know where I could possibly be! At least I could narrow it down to the western part of Europe, but I would have to return to my troops to confirm our legitimate location. Even then, I would have to face them, knowing that I returned so quickly because I irresponsibly managed to loose my supplies, and I do not believe that although my brother was the highest commanding officer present, I would get away without reprimands. Yet before all that, I would need to find my way back to the camp.

"Shit," I said, since it was the only logical thing to say in this situation. Although, there was only me present, so I should not be saying anything. I do not want to make a habit of talking to myself like a madman. Then again, my thoughts seemed to understand my actions and my wants the best, and right now, my thoughts and I wanted a cold beer.

Me, sitting in a local pub, a fresh pint set on the bar in front of me, the cup sweating as the foam sizzled and popped, offering a nice, bubbly relief to my dry throat. My brother, perched on the stool beside me, would raise his matching glass, letting out his signature cackles before tipping his mug back, enticing me to do the same.

My chest heaved with a heavy sigh, since neither my brother nor any beer were present during my predicament. I reached into the large hole in my backpack, grabbing for a thin object. I produced a notebook, holding it for a moment, grateful that it was not one of the contents that fell into the river. My brother gave it to me before we set out to quell the last of the uprisings. I asked him why he would give me a diary, but he vehemently told me it was a journal, that I should utilize it by keeping track things from my 'awesome' life.

I would not consider being lost in a forest 'awesome,' but it was notable, so I cracked open the journal to a clean page and started scrawling in it from a pen tucked into the binding. Writing about my objective and how I mucked up my responsibilities was strangely calming. Keeping a written log of the misperhaps made me feel like I was not a complete failure.

My pen stopped scratching across the parchement as I casted another glance around the forest. The water gulped and ran over the rocks cutting out of the ground, the only noise between the trees until something fluttered above the current. I stiffened, slapping my journal close and stuffing it into my bag. Jumping to my feet, I slung it over my back and gripped my rifle.

My footsteps were heavier than I would like them to be, but a lack of sleep would not allow one to fly gracefully through the forest. I never considered myself to be graceful anyway, even when well rested. May the river cover my feet crunching on the leaves littering across the floor as I crept closer to the sounds peeking over the currents. In order to travel safely, I had to neutralize the threat, so I scooted between the trees, pausing for a couple of shallow breaths behind each one, certainly hearing singing by now.

 _Singing._ I peered from the trunk I braced against, quickly retracting when I saw a figure hunched over the river just several meters from my spot. I slipped to another tree further down the stream. The voice was more audible, rising over the constant sloshing. I gave my rifle a squeeze, the metal comforting in my hands.

The source of the music was charming- a woman singing in soprano. As strange as it was for a lady to be in the middle of the forest, her voice alarmingly charming, I had to remain diligent. Perhaps she was lost, too, or maybe she was dangerous. The tones remained in the air when I snuck closer, catching the outfit of blue she wore as she hunched over the water.

After gathering my breath again, very slowly, I shifted to get a get a glimpse of the figure. A hand reached into a wooden bucket beside her, and lifted a red object from it. My stomach churned, the sight made me begin imagining what I could do with a single tomato, cooked or uncooked. I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. If it was just a lone woman washing food in the water, then I should pass her without confrontation.

Besides, I would not rely on theft to quench my hunger. Another rumble told me otherwise, and the lovely, if a bit erratic music told any protesting muscle to come closer, the prospect of food and comapany too alluring for my liking, like a mother beckoning her injured child to become well. Her presence hinted at the possibility of some sort of shelter, too.

The singing stopped abruptly, and I blinked in surprise, taking a step away from her. My legs carried into the open anyway without my consent, standing before the lady. Wide, amber eyes gawked at me, and at that moment I realized that the person was another man that possessed the carefree voice.

"Uh..." A stupid grunt escaped my mouth. The man replied with a small noise of panic, staring at the gun I clutched onto. I shifted away, bewildered just as he was, but he let out a sudden high yell that hurt my ears. I flinched as he whipped around to flee.

The riverbank proved slippery as his boots flew out from under him, crashing face first into the mud. The man screeched again, shoving away and rolling to the side to escape my presence, yet landed into the river. Whatever he was screaming was cut off as sprays of water slapped his face, shoving and soaking.

"Oh my god," I scoffed, slipping off my bag and setting my gun on the floor. The current was difficult to wade through without falling, I would know, let alone fighting it while on one's hands and knees. I could not watch another person drown and get swept away when I could have helped them anyway!

I plunked one leg into the water, finding a strong foothold between the rocks, grabbing wherever I saw a shimmer of blue cloth. With a rough heave, and his arms flailing liquid all over the place, further troubling our situation, I ripped the man out of the water, stumbling from the weight and fatigue.

We crashed to the ground, and he flopped over, sprawling out with a fit of coughs. I rubbed the shoulder that I used to pull him out of the river, catching my own breath. After a while of collecting ourselves, his head snapped up, gawking at me with a frightened gaze. He squeaked and shot away at an incredibly fast speed, flopping over and scooching backwards, away from me. When his back hit a tree trunk, he screamed in fright over that, too.

"Hey, stop that screaming!" I said, and he replied with another drawn out cry. "Hush! I am not going to hurt you! That would be pathetic!" I told him, hitting the ground next to me in an effort to silence him.

His hand shakily snaked into his breast pocket, and I gasped, flinging myself to my rifle laying on the ground. I clamped my palm onto the gun, but stopped when he whipped out a flash of white, quickly swishing it in the air, chanting in a language I did not know.

 _He is surrendering._ I realized, lifting my hand from my gun. _From what?_ I did not recognize his uniform from any enemy or friendly regiment, and to be frank, they looked worn and were becoming threadbare. The panicked mewls skittered to a halt for a sneeze before morphing into sobs. _Hic, hic, choo!_ Tears pricked his eyes as he murmured worryingly.

"Hush! Hush!" I started again. "Hey!" I shouted, and he squawked, jumping and staring at me with a haunted look. "Shh!" I put a finger to my mouth, hoping he understood at least _that._ "Just be quiet for a moment, will you?"

The man shrunk, his legs scratching across the forest floor in an unsuccessful attempt to crawl away further. I glanced away from the pitiful sight to the basket of tomatoes. They must have spilled from their container during the squabble, so I reached over, picking up the ones that tumbled onto the ground, rinsing them before putting them into their pail. I stood up, eliciting another whine from the coward, and slung my bag and rifle over my back.

As much as I would like to take just one tomato, I set the bucket next to his feet. The man flinched from the proximity and more slurs spilled from his lips. He opened his eyes and took his hands off the top of his head to clamp them onto his shoulders, trembling violently. He coughed and said more panicked words.

I sighed, taking the thick blanket covering the tomatoes from the pail. It had loose dirt on it, so I stood up and gave it a stiff shake before holding it over the man's head. He looked up in surprise as the weight of the cover fell onto his shoulders. I knelt down and tugged on the blanket so it would block out the threatening breeze.

"See? I am not going to hurt you, so you can stop crying," I told him. He cocked his head to the side and said something short, some sort of question. I stiffly nodded, though I had no idea what he just said. With a moment of hesitation, he grabbed the blanket and pulled it closer, looking grateful, but still quivering.

 _Great, neither of us know what the other one is saying._ It was pointless to linger, so I rose to my feet. I heard his voice, questioning, but I turned away to resume my fruitless journey. Something swished in the leaves behind me, followed by a flurry of footsteps. I stiffened, realizing at the moment how foolish it was to turn my back to a stranger. His arms latched onto the one of mine and pulled at the same time my hand wrapped around the rope that attached the gun to my back.

I recoiled, trying to rip my arm away, but he clutched onto it with his smaller frame, clinging as if his life depended on it. _What kind of attack is this?_ He belted more quick words, and of course I did not understand what in the world he was saying. I stopped trying to pull away when I realized he was embracing my arm, not ripping it off, or anything horrid to that extent.

The man looked up once I quit struggling, and spoke again, tilting his head, similar to a curious bird. I shrugged and pulled away more gently this time. "Well, if you excuse me," I told him, slipping from his slacking grip.

I traveled no more than twelve paces before he called out something again, his feet skittering across the ground. He reattached to my jacket, his wet clothes soaking through mine. "Eck, what?" I said rather harshly. He huffed, giving my coat a few light tugs. "What?" His hands motioned in bizarre jabs and points to a general direction. I looked that way, but saw nothing but trees. He saw my confused expression and dared to giggle. "Look, I do not know what you are saying," I started again. "It is probably the same for you, so the quicker we part ways, the quicker we both can go back to where we came from-"

Another yank, rougher this time, and I realized he was attempting to lure me somewhere. "Hey, wait," I said, though my legs did not.

He momentarily released my arm to pick up the basket and grabbed my hand. I narrowed my eyes, grunting unattractively when my legs tangled with a fallen branch as we trekked away from the stream. The man turned his head, murmuring worryingly and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. I wondered if it was safe enough to let him to lead me through foreign woods.

Maybe, just maybe, he would take me to a bar set in the middle of the forest with warm blankets...and beer, of course. Unless he is leading me to a pit of poisonous darts and snakes, or worse, French men. I hissed under my breath, clumsily trying to traverse over the path of thorns and broken stones. He resumed singing, low at first, and built until the words echoed off the trees. I glanced around the landscape, suspiciously tossing a glance over my shoulder.

* * *

 _A.N- Do not worry...there is still more to come._


	2. Chapter 2

_There is no way he could be a murderer,_ I reasoned bitterly with myself. I saved him from being swept away into the river, after all. Unless that is how he traps his victims, with sweet words and warm eyes, only to brutally end them in the middle of the forest. My free hand clamped onto the strap of my rifle, though I doubt we could effectively fight one another. I was slipping into a weary state, and he was soaked to the bone, hobbling and stumbling from a loose rock.

Through the trees, I spotted a wall of wooden stakes posing as a fence. The rugged ground beneath us morphed into flatter dirt, trampled by many feet, leading up to a large gap in the fence. _Oh no._ He is taking me to an entire forest village full of strange cultists that are going to sacrifice me on a stone slab.

I do not have such a colorful imagination...most of the time. Our pace slowed as we passed the fence, my eyes jumping around the opening for any hint of danger. There was no statues or sacrificial planks around, but there were a few small tents littering the ground, pointing to the direction of the large stone fire pit. Some men dressed like my captor were hunched over it, poking at the tent of sticks and adding more flammable materials to the pile.

My first guess was that I just wandered into a military camp, but they usually were set up for easy pitching, so everything could be quickly taken down in a few moments notice. These men looked as if they were here for a notable set of time, and they certainly do not carry themselves like members of the army, camping or not.

There were no more than fifteen men, carrying more baskets and adding their catches to the growing collection of food near the pit. Some stopped to laugh and make small talk, and I did not recognize anything in my language. No guards stood vigilantly, although there was someone propped against the single wall of fencing, which was built as if it were abandoned mid-project, but he was slouching, asleep.

I felt my hand be squeezed, and I looked over to see my captor staring up at me intensely. He tipped his head and said something, questioning. _Is he asking me about the camp?_ I glanced around once more, and a few of the men stopped and stared, looking curious and confused. I gave off a few nods. "It is quaint."

He let out a happy exclamation, pulling me up to the camp. He set the basket of tomatoes by the pit. The pair before the pit looked up and widened their eyes. They simultaneously cried out in fright and shrunk away, grabbing a hold of one another for support. The pair spewed out what sounded like pleas and begging. I raised a hand and touched my own face, wondering if that was what frightened them.

The one latched onto my arm lifted his unoccupied hand and spoke to them, gesturing to me and vigorously nodding. I grimaced, eying the men creeping closer and staring as if I were some sort of artifact in a museum. The mass shifted as a snappy voice lashed out, and one who looked like my captor shoved his way to the front.

He gawked at me, looking unbearably angry and horrified at the same time as his gaze dropped to our linked hands. Whatever he was spitting out sounded much more lovely than the expression he had on his face as he marched around the pit, tripping and spilling another bucket of tomatoes. Someone cried out at the bruised food, and he spat some sort of curse from his slip up. I grabbed the strap to my gun again, and he grabbed my captor's other hand, shouting more foreign words.

The man holding my hand shook his head and whined in return. He took back his hand from his look alike and threw it around in a wide gesture. He pinched the blanket draped over his shoulders, and the surrounding men gasped and exclaimed in wonder, their eyes jumping to mine. It was hard to not want to hide from all their stares.

"See!" My captor nodded and looked up again. See? Sea? Oh, _si,_ as in _yes_ in Spanish, but they were not speaking was agreeing to something as he smiled at me. I glanced away from the warming sight to the others shrugging and performing more of the weird gestures.

The look alike spat something, stomping his foot on the ground and violently whipping his head side to side. He jabbed a finger in my direction before swishing a hand over his head, making an obscene sign. My captor gasped and cried out in retaliation.

One of the men stepped toward the look alike, putting a hand over his shoulder, pointing to the basket he knocked over. The look alike curled his lip in distaste and narrowed his eyes in my direction before turning to the pit. My captor sighed and murmured to him in saddened tones before giving my arm a tug.

He ushered me over to the left side, and I followed, unsure what else to do. A large white tent took up this side of the camp, and someone with a bloody bandage around their hand was seated on a bench just outside the entrance. As we neared, I smelled the distinct scent of fermented wine emitting from the cup he was drinking.

My captor raised a hand and greeted the man on the bench, who looked up, staring at me in surprise. Another man peeked out of the tent and beckoned the injured one inside. We sat on the seat and I slid my bag off by my feet, sighing and rolling my shoulders from the lost of weight.

 _They like me?_ At least they tolerate me, since they did not clump together and chase me out of their camp, or worse, grab me and throw me into the fire pit for the evening meal they were preparing. Unless that was to come, I inferred that I was welcomed...for the most part. I wonder if that rude man was related to the one ruffling his hair dry against the blanket.

He pulled the blanket from his head, and fidgeted with the buttons of his jacket. I looked away to give him some privacy as he peeled it from his dampened skin, exclaiming in relief and shaking it in the air. The man turned to me after laying on the bench space beside him to dry and tugged on my coat.

"I am sorry, I do not understand," I said as he pulled on the sleeve again. He kept repeating a few words, and huffed when I only acknowledged him with a confused look. He twisted to the side, grabbing a stick propped against the bench, most likely a cheap crutch.

Pressing the tip to the dirt, he drew a circle and a curl emerging from its side. Two dots and a half circle posed as a face. He pointed to himself and said something light.

I nodded. So he was drawing himself. He scratched the stick across the ground, forming an arrow to the face and wrote above the lines. He turned and stared expectantly. I gulped and tried not to butcher the name. "F-Fell-each-eahno?"

With a giggle he said "Feliciano" much more gracefully than I had.

"Erm, yes, Feliciano," I repeated, unable to replicate the light sounds. He laughed again, and I felt the tips of my ears grow hot. He held the stick out, giving it a little shake. I stared at it for a long moment before understanding what Feliciano wanted.

I grasped the branch and attempted to draw a duplicate circle, but it came out as an oval. I stuck two eyes and decided that was sufficient before drawing an arrow to my head, writing my own name.

"Luhd-weg," Feliciano tried.

"Ludwig."

"Ludvig?" He took the stick and changed the W in my name to a V. Lowering the point to my eyes, he scratched two thick lines over them- angry eyebrows. Then Feliciano drew a downward arc for a frown, proceeding to laugh as if proud of what he done. I felt my face match the one in the dirt. _Did I really look like that to others?_

The curtain to the tent swished, and someone stumbled out of the tent. The now patched up man trampled over the faces, and I now had a boot imprint for a nose. Feliciano shot up and grabbed the sides of his head with a distressed wail. The man spun around with wide eyes and glanced down. He raised his shoulders and scratched his cheek, apologetic, before turning away.

The nurse popped out of the tent and called out to the next patient. Feliciano spun around and nodded, saying something back to him. He grabbed my arm, ushering me off the bench. I must have looked as if Feliciano dragged me face down all the way across the forest, since the nurse gasped and moved his arms in gusto, motioning to an unoccupied cot, which was just a metal frame with a blanket over it.

I had no choice but to sit with two sets of hands pushing me onto the 'bed,' letting out an embarrassed noise of relief once I was off my feet. They exchanged looks before the nurse started to rattle in worried tones, but Feliciano swished his hand, shaking his head and pointing to his mouth.

The physician nodded, giving me a pitiful look and patted Feliciano's back, gesturing to the bed. Feliciano started to say something else before the other man cut him off and pushed him to the cot. I shifted over a little to accommodate Feliciano, who let off another sneeze.

I reached down and untied my boots, sighing when I kicked them off, along with my soaked socks. Feliciano was having more trouble with the knots that were supposed to be shoe ties and called for the nurse, pointing to the mess. The nurse knelt down and picked at the knots, but after a while of struggling, he looked up at Feliciano and shook his head, unable to undo them as well.

Feliciano cried out in dismay at the boots trapped on his legs and shook them as if that would get them off. "Hey, hey, stop kicking!" I told him, and grabbed the one closest to me. He jumped and grinned when he realized I was untying them with ease. I gave the nurse a bewildered look. He seemed about middle age, and both of them were incapable of handling shoe laces. _How did he get them tied in the first place?_

The nurse was digging in a chest on the furthest side of the tent and pulled out a bundle of cloths. He held them up to Feliciano, saying more strange words, and Feliciano leaped up from the bed, happily exclaiming and nodding. He started to attack the belt around his waist, and the nurse vigorously shook his head before his pants came off, shoving the clothes to his chest and pointing to the tent opening. Feliciano giggled and ducked out of the tent.

The medical man turned to me and spoke in soothing tones, but I think he was just talking to comfort me instead of getting answers. He ducked a cloth into a bucket of water near the cot and squeezed it, and pressed it to my sore feet. I unclenched my jaw and sighed from the pleasant feeling to my blisters. "Thank you," I said, and the nurse looked at me with a vaguely confused expression.

"Uh, _gracias?_ " I tried, and he laughed at me. The nurse stood up, dropping the cloth into the bucket and ducking out of the tent, leaving me alone. The temptation to lie down and close my eyes was almost irresistible, but if I did not find something to eat, I would wake up to find that my stomach clawed itself from my abdomen in the search of food.

I set my feet onto the cool ground and grunted as I rose from the bed, once again standing on weak legs. I neared the entrance, but gasped and backed away as someone on the other side flipped it open. Feliciano slipped inside, holding two metal dishes of steaming food. My eyes would not look anywhere else.

" _Ciao,_ Ludwig," he said.

Chow? _Is that code name for meal time?_ The scent of tomato sauce kicked me, and a flood pooled in my mouth. "Is...is that for me?"

Feliciano tipped his head and gave one a little shake. I took this as an invite to have one, and when I reached for it, he smiled and allowed me to do so. There was even a small complimentary fork laying beside the noodles. I turned away so he could not see me ungraciously shoving the pasta in mouth. I paused, stiff for a moment, wondering if it was _really_ possible to make something this delicious.

He settled on the bed, and I glanced over my shoulder, seeing him pat the space next to him. He repeated something, and beckoned to rest beside him. _Here, Ludwig. Come here! Be a good boy, and we will give you pasta!_ I gulped the clump I was chewing and gave my mouth a quick wipe in case there was sauce all over my face before plopping onto the blanket.

Although he talked like the nurse did, I replied this time with grunts and by bobbing my head, clearing my platter of any noodles. Feliciano put a hand on my shoulder and asked another question, pointing to the empty container. He smiled and patted his stomach and made rubbing motions.

 _Is the food good?_ I nodded so vigorously, I hurt the back of my neck. Feliciano gasped and his expression lightened up a considerable amount. I wondered if my enjoyment of the meal was _that_ touching. He flapped a hand and giggled before taking my empty platter. He glanced over his shoulder when he stood up and walked to the exit, and waved, saying a slur of words and my name before ducking out of the tent.

Dusk peeked inside before the flap closed, and I listened to the light noises of fellow men outside laughing and merry making over their collective meal. I had made it to safety before the darkness came.

* * *

 _A.N.-_ _Feliciano...Feliciano. How does one pronounce that name? Sometimes, I say "Fuh-lease-ee-ah-no," and other times, I call him "Fuh-leech-ee-ah-no!" Perhaps I could just call him "Pasta eater #1..."_


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note- I do not know if I truly need a warning for this, but there is some...heavy language in this chapter. Anyway, a lot of people cuss like Romano, and even to know who that is, had to go through the first time reading/listening/experiencing his joyous language. So don't yell at me! :P_

* * *

A canopy of white greeted my eyes when I awoke, not realizing I feel asleep. I shot up from the cot, scanning the tent, even before my vision cleared from drowsiness. No one, not even the nurse, was present. I grunted while rising from the bed, rubbing my neck and hobbled to the exit.

The sun was peeking out of the horizon, washing the empty camp with orange rays. Everyone must still be in their respective tents, sleeping. It was a powerful habit of mine to start the day as early as possible. _Why waste precious hours of light lying in bed?_

I crouched to snap the binding close to serve as a warning in case someone decided to come inside. Turning away from the exit, I noticed that the campers left anything and everything out for searching eyes to see. There were several blankets bundled against the furthest wall, and I peeked into a bag to see a collection of crude medical tools. Other than a small chest and the metal frame, the space was empty, lacking certain things medical tents needed to be effective.

I glanced over my shoulder before kneeling in front of the chest. There was a chain for a lock, but apparently the inhabitants thought they did not need it hooked and closed. I could put the container on my lap, that was how small it was, and inside held a pitiful collection of journals.

Putting the chest on the ground next to me, I grabbed the top notebook, flipping through the pages. The language had several features of Spanish, but I did not know what the words inside said. _Are these Italian notes?_ Calling them notes was a compliment. The scrawls were sloppy, as if written when moving or distracted. As I paged through the book, I noticed the writing grew into drawings. The paper was riddled with sketches of the outside world; trees, tomatoes, and wild animals.

My fingers ran over the lines, the marks heavily embedded onto their page. Flipping forward, another sketch consisted of several kinds of bullets to their respective guns, how to avoid being shot (which was shown by a stick figure running away from an onslaught of bullets), and a diagram how to tie a white flag onto a stick. I let out a short chuckle.

"Hey, wait a minute, I know those models," I said. "Those are no longer used after the newer models came out a few months ago. The older ones had a staggering backfire rate..."

 _Is this journal several months old?_ The paper was crinkled and crunchy between my fingers; it was believable. Nothing else was written or drawn, although there were more empty pages after the sketches of weapons. I paged through the remaining parchment until a scribble on the last available sheet caught my attention. I widened my eyes

Several crudely drawn figures were fleeing from an enormous fire consuming over half the page. The person in the foreground had a smudged expression of terror. A tank was coming forth from the background, aimed and ready to fire. I recognized the vehicle as an older model of my nation's rival, also no longer used.

"Those were swapped out at the end of the first phase, before the first attempts of negotiations began," I put a hand over my mouth thoughtfully. I realized I was gazing at the pages for a considerable amount of time, so I gave myself a shake and grabbed the other journals. They only had diagrams and instructions for medical procedures, so I set them back into their original place and backed away once the chest was back on the ground, surveying if anything was left out of order.

I stepped away, reaching for my backpack. I pulled my notebook out and immediately set off in recording what happened since the last time I wrote and what I found. _Why is there not any more recent information? Have these men been here since before the war picked up its antics again? Are they even aware of the start of the Second Phase?_

There was only a few ways to find out, and that was going to be asking questions, or more 'investigating.' Since the regiment spoke a language far from my own, that left the only option of snooping around. I needed to find maps and information before I set out to find my old camp. They may have not planned to harm me in anyway, but that could change if they discover me digging around for information they may want to keep hidden.

Something ran into the tent, followed by an exclamation of surprise. I jumped off the bed, snapping my journal closed. A figure stood before the entrance, and reached up to open the tent. I quickly slipped my notebook into my bag and settled on the bed, pushing up the light strands of hair tickling my forehead.

The entrance flipped open, and Feliciano's head popped into view. His face immediately lit up when he saw me. "Ve, chow, Ludwig!"

 _More chow time?_ "Uh, yes, chow time," I could handle more food. I have not eaten anything fulfilling until last night.

He opened the tent all the way and stepped inside, ordained in dry clothes now and walked up to the bed, spewing out more (possibly Italian) words I did not understand. I stared up at him waving his arms, somewhat amused, and of course confused. He grabbed my arm and gave it a tug, urging me off the bed.

I followed more willingly than I did yesterday. The Sun was higher now, and the camp was awakened by the brighter light. Some men were preparing for _another_ meal, but then again, it seemed so soon because I slept through the night. Several were hunched over, grinding stones against stones in a primitive fashion to crush flour. Others were stoking a building fire, and stacking planks of wood over it to make a cheap furnace. To rapidly utilize such methods of old style cooking, these men _had_ to be in the forest for a considerable amount of time.

Feliciano prompted me to take a seat on one of the thick logs laid around the pit, and he snatched a pile of dried grass, carefully poking the straws into the flames and laying the burning pieces in areas in need of heat. Another man came over to my unoccupied side with a bowl, calling out, "Chow." to us.

Apparently 'chow' was a greeting, and not a way to tell someone that they have food for you to eat. I turned to him and tried it. "Um, _chow,_ sir."

He stared, surprised, and then nodded, setting to work in adding a container of water to his odd lump, kneading it until it slowly became dough. I watched them diligently work, chatting merrily and laughing at things I would not know. The man beside me asked me something, but Feliciano shook his head, most likely telling him I did not understand.

 _He does not speak Italian._

The man looked at me, shrugging. _That must be a bad time for him, then!_

It _was_ a bad time. I sat there, staring at them busying themselves when I felt useless. I _loathed_ not working when I should, but how could I be of help when I cannot ask or offer it? I grumbled under my breath, shifting side to side on the log. Something splattered across my back and I gasped as a flurry of white flew from behind me. Feliciano cried in surprise while his fellow soldier's eyes crinkled with heavy laugher.

I shot up from my seat and spun around. Feliciano's look alike glared at me, his hand coated in flour. I reached behind myself and brushed my jacket, examining the dust on my hand. He performed an obscene gesture as he waltzed over to the pit and knelt down, adding his pile to the man's forming ball of dough.

Feliciano stood as well, brushing the flour from my back. "Err, thanks," I said. He tilted his head and smiled, not understanding. " _Gracias?"_ I tried. I was positive whatever flour the look alike threw did not hit _that_ low, so I lightly shooed Feliciano away, settling back down with a disgruntled glance at the brunet offender.

"So, are you good today?" I asked, earning quirked glances. "N-need help...with anything?" _Was anything remotely similar to German and their language?_ "Sorry..." I looked at my feet, feeling truly stupid.

"Don't you know no one can understand your potato language?"

I snapped my head up. The look alike flickered his eyes from his own ball of dough to me, curling his lips in distaste. _He just spoke Spanish!_ I am not adept at the language, but I could still communicate effectively in it! If only the other speaker were more friendly, like Feliciano.

His eyes widened and his mouth popped open. I realized he was mocking my expression. I clamped my mouth shut, bewildered from his childishness. "Y-you speak Spanish?" I asked stupidly.

"No, I'm just talking shit and you can understand me."

I looked anywhere but his crude glares.

"What are you doing here? I know you are not Italian. You don't sound Spanish, either."

"I-I-"

"I-I-I-I...duh..."

"I'm German," I snapped. He growled and set his blob on a metal tray.

"Eugh, why in the world did my brother bring a walking potato into our camp?"

"Oh, you are the brother of Feliciano?" I asked, trying to be civil.

"No shit. Shouldn't you be back in Potatoland rather than the Italian countryside?"

"Why do you think I am here?" I gritted my teeth. _The war, dammit._

"How should I know? _Why_ should I know?" He shoved his tray over the fire, narrowing his eyes and yanking his hand away before it was burned.

"What _do_ you know?" I hissed in German.

Feliciano glanced between us, murmuring worryingly. His brother grimaced. "You look like one of those macho infantry men, but that is _no_ German gear I know of."

"How do you _not_ know the colors of one of your country's allies?"

A fierce growl. "Do not consider your nation and mine all buddy-buddy! Things are different now. Once the war is wrapped up and peace talk is made, our lands will have _nothing_ to do with one another...hopefully."

I found myself staring at him, my eyebrows furrowing. "What are you talking about? There were negotiations, but they failed the first time..." I trailed off. _That is what prompted the Second Phase, but there are rumors of another attempt of negotiations. I will not know for certain until I get back to_ my _regiment, and we join the other garrison in the South._

"What the fuck are _you_ talking about?" The look alike snarled, breaking my train of thought. "There are no negotiations. Not yet. Those dumbasses won't put up the white flag until they are _all_ beaten to a pulp, because of some 'honor code' or some stupid shit."

 _They do not know?_ My mind went back to the drawings in the journals I flipped through. The sketches were outdated to me, but not to those still trapped in the past, not to these Italians in the middle of the woods. It clicked; they were from the First Phase, clueless of the failed peace talks and the revival of the battles. _Then why in the world are they still camped out in the woods?! They should have returned to their homes by now!_

"Yo, bastard! Did you lose your train of thought? There are not that many places to go, anyway, so I would not be surprised."

I shook my head. "Forget it," I grumbled, putting my head in my hands. _Why do they not use maps to go back home?_ Do _they have maps?_ I tacked another objective to my list of things to investigate.

"Gladly!" The brother said. He called to Feliciano and asked something in Italian, though it sounded like a demand. Feliciano gasped and clapped his hands together excitedly. He reached over and latched onto my jacket, giving it small tugs. His sibling snorted and looked at me. "Feli says you were creeping around the woods and you made him fall into the river!"

"I _helped_ him out of the water," I retorted, glancing at Feliciano leaning against my arm, craning his head up to smile warmly. I doubt Feliciano worded the occurrence in that crude way.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what happened. Why were you sneaking around the woods? You make a shitty spy if that's what you were aiming for!"

"No, I was not spying. People spy when their enemies have something worthy of seeking, but I can see you did not know that," I retorted, trying to keep my voice even.

Feliciano's brother spat something I did not understand. "Did you the stupid potato get lost from his sack? Is that why you are here? Huh?" He snapped when I did not answer right away. "I want to know."

Feliciano called out to his brother, who huffed and crossed his arms, turning away. He glared in my direction, as if it were my fault he was lightly scolded. I did not have the slightest clue to why he was so malevolent to me, a near stranger. Once the bread was baked, however, the rest of the men joined us from their toils, all crude thoughts and feelings aside when I sunk my teeth into the warm dough. The delicious food did not ameliorate the feeling of me seeing myself as a dirty spud amongst cherry red tomatoes.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note- What to do when you find yourself stranded with a bunch of foreign people: Cry. You_ could _make yourself useful, but just remember...crying is easier._

* * *

To make myself useful over the next several days, I found work in tending to the gardens I discovered a little ways from the camp. The tomato and grape plants were closer to the river for nourishment than the regiment. I found this out the hard way when I was taking a walk and nearly squashed the weeks of hard work, mistaking them for ordinary forest plants. The men who nurse the crops stopped me in time by pelting tomatoes at my face. I could not see for a few hours after that.

Some sunrises later, everything was fine (I finally removed that one seed from my eye), and I passed the time plucking weeds and pruning the plants by listening to the men chat to one another, picking up common words and phrases. "How are you?" "Did you sleep well?" "I need to relieve myself." "I want pasta for dinner tonight."

Yet my search in the shadows for maps was not as successful. They were nowhere in the medical tent, as concluded my fourth thorough search, and I doubted any of the men harbored them, since they would not be lingering in the woods and using leaves to wipe themselves! _It is as if they do not have the maps._

That sounded smarter in my head than writing it in my journal, what I occupied myself with at the moment. The medical tent was a sanctuary away from the afternoon bustle of the camp, and I could peacefully write and think in the muffled silence. Not having maps is the same of not having shoes on one's feet, or having dog food yet not having any dogs...

A small weight rested on my back as I hunched over the notebook, using my other arm as a writing surface. I gasped and jumped away, snapping my journal closed. Feliciano had a hand raised in the air and asked something with a slight tilt of his head. I did not even hear him enter the tent.

I relaxed with a sigh, knowing that none of the campers can decipher my written words. I walked over to the cot and put the notebook into my backpack, falling onto the bed. Feliciano smiled and hopped over, settling uncomfortably close to me. He began blubbering, and I caught a few words, mostly articles of "the" and "of" and a few "I have" and "I went." My eyebrows mashed together as I found myself staring. _Does he speak to fill the silence?_ I wondered, because we both now know that we cannot understand one another, even partway.

I watched the gestures Feliciano performed with the story he was telling. He made a jogging motion, his arms stiffly pumping up and down in mid air, and he huffed, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead. His words were lightly twisted with giggles, and held a hand out, as if he were doting on something. I felt my jaw tremble from my fight to not let out frightening laugher. I turned away with a hand over my mouth, but I could only muffle my awkward chortling so much.

Feliciano gasped and grabbed my arm, exclaiming joyously, shaking us both side to side. He repeated my name amongst other words. I lightly swished my hand to feebly stop him and sighed shakily, the feeling of laughter still in my stomach. "Sorry, sorry. I did not mean to-" I tried, losing my words to another bout of snickers after he let out a few giggles. "All right, stop laughing. It is making me laugh, and that is probably why you are laughing..."

 _I never knew happiness was contagious._ I cleared my throat, gazing upon the sunlight filtering into the cracks of the tent, promising another warm, sunny day. My eyes flickered to the side at the movement of Feliciano raising his hand. I slightly recoiled when his fingers brushed clumps of my hair that were not pressed to my head behind my ears.

I realized he was asking me something in a quiet tone. I could sense my face gawking at him stupidly. "Err...what?"

"How...you are?" He struggled, and even then, his voice managed to remain fleeting.

"O-oh, I am fine," replying easier. "Err, I did not know you spoke Spanish."

"Very little. Listen better."

"Thanks to your brother yelling at you in it all the time?" I guessed, my poor attempt at humor.

None the less, Feliciano unleashed a flurry of giggles, graciously nodding. "Yes! He is mad...not know...why I come with you."

I wondered that, too. "Why did you bring me here?" His smile faltered. "Uh, I am not mad. I am just curious."

He smiled again. "You help."

I grimaced. I only helped him because I scared him, even unintentionally! "You are welcome?" I said, if that was the proper thing to say...

"We have pasta today!"

"We are eating spaghetti again this evening?" I asked, and he vigorously nodded, so happy over the prospect of noodles. "Good, good, your pasta is nice."

He stared blankly despite his smile.

 _Shit,_ that was not nice. "No, your pasta is...the best pasta..."

When Feliciano laughed, most likely from my stupid grunting in attempts to communicate, I knew that was a bit better, and it was the truth. I wondered for a moment if the pasta had mind melting abilities, my train of thought tangling underneath itself as he wound his arms around mine, sighing, but it was not a sad sound.

 _Was I the only one around here that was raised to be cautious of strangers and respect personal space?_ "Err, Feliciano," I started, about to scoot away, but he picked up his head, eyes warm but questioning.

"Are you good?"

"Uh, yes, I am fine," I said, and he nuzzled back to his previous position, his face pressed against my shoulder, swinging his legs back and forth and lightly humming. _I guess this was fine._ There is nothing _not_ fine with company, even if it was a bit too close company. For a few peaceful breaths, I listened to Feliciano's singing. I felt the day's warmth billow into the tent. I smelled the lingering scent of tomato sauce and wine in the air.

I picked up my head that was beginning to lean to my occupied side, my responsibilities creeping in to play. "Feliciano, do you have any maps?"

" _El mapa?"_ He echoed.

I glanced around the tent for something to draw in the dirt. "Excuse me," I slipped from the bed, not missing his soft exclamation of confusion. Ducking out of the tent, I spotted the stick that we previous used, and took it back inside.

Feliciano was in front of the entrance, most likely about to follow where I went. He saw the branch and questioned me about it. I walked to the middle of the tent, and started with a rectangular shape in the dirt, filling it with blobs.

"Oh! _La carta!"_ Feliciano gasped. He started to say something, but trailed off when he remembered I could not understand Italian. He struggled with the words, his hands bobbing up and down with the effort. "Maps...no maps."

 _Great._ I gulped. "No maps? You never had them, or did you lose the maps?"

"Maps...hot...no, not hot. Hot light, no maps."

Now he was making me think of light bulbs, but that would not fit into the situation. "Can you draw it?"

"Yes!" Feliciano grabbed the branch, and eagerly scribbled below the rectangle. Wavy lines reached for the crude map I drew, and he drug the tip across the map twice, scratching a X over the drawing. Then he surrounded the entire thing with large, puffy swirls.

"There was a fire?" I gasped, the last drawing in that journal snapping in place. _Was it the same fire?_ "How did that happen?" When Feliciano hesitated with a strained expression, digging the side of his head, I asked, "Can you draw how it passed?"

Feliciano shook his head, tapping the stick on the dirt.

"Is it too difficult to draw?" That would be hard to believe based on Feliciano's previous art.

Another hesitation, then Feliciano shook his head again. He propped the stick against the cot before turning away. He paused at the opening of the tent.

"Feliciano? Did...did something big come by?"

"Do not think...I go. Bye!" He stammered and slipped outside.

"Wait, Feli!" I reached for the door and peered into the camp. Feliciano streaked across the field and away into the trees. I shrunk back inside before any of the men could look my way. I turned and stared at the map with a giant X running through it.

"If the maps were destroyed in that attack, that would explain why there are no commanding officers, and why there are so few men left in the regiment. They died," I whispered, looking away from the cruel sketch.

With no maps, they would be stuck to wander aimlessly until they found civilization again. Yet they did not do that; they decided to set up camp and stay in the forest. A bit odd of a decision, but it does sound better than dying of disease and starvation while possibly furthering their predicament.

"Since my troops are going to head South, we could help the lost regiment find their way back home, too." I gasped, but then grumbled at the silly idea. What would my brother say, if I came crashing into camp with all these Italians? Not only would they have to agree to the idea (which I have no way of conveying to them), I would have to find _my_ regiment first.

"Oh, Gilbert, what would you do, if you were in my shoes?" I asked aloud, which I really should not have been doing.

"Not fit, that's for sure! You got big feet!" He would most likely say.

I chuckled at the thought, scratching the back of my head as I approached the exit once more. Flipping open the cover, I eyed the campers. Some hunched over the building fire, preparing for the next meal at daylight's end, while others lazily lounged about, daring to nap in the warm grass.

"Italian military," I mused, but frowned when I did not see Feliciano's auburn hair in the sea of duller heads. If the subject of the maps burning prompted him to flee, then it would only worsen matters by forcing more questions upon him. Yet he could have ran away in a fit from the resurfaced memories, and fall into the river...again.

I decided to go after him, for his own safety, and the fact that I felt a heavy weight pulling on my stomach at the possibility of him being upset with me from bringing up a sensitive topic. Several pairs of eyes trailed after me as I lumbered across the camp, trying not to meet any of the stares. My feet crunched loudly, echoing around the trees as I traveled further from the evening laze.

I inferred Feliciano would keep away from the water for a while, so I turned from the stream. The late sun beat my back during my search. I imagined how it affected Feliciano, who ran through the trees. Hopefully, he did not run into one.

I paused in the middle of a circle of trees, the ground gradually slopping upward. I glanced over my shoulder, surveying the landscape and memorizing familiar structures. It would be truly stupid of me to lose myself from _two_ regiments!

The air whistled, and something small pinged off my head. I clamped a hand over the offended area while spinning around. Feliciano's brother, who I begrudgingly learned his name to be Lovino, stood at the top of the hill, tossing something in the air and catching it. I opened my mouth to call out for him, but he launched another of the mysterious object.

It directly hit my forehead and fell to the ground. I noticed it was an acorn, and Lovino's cackles reverberated through the forest, greatly amused at what he accomplished.

"You look like a dumb deer on steroids!" He told me.

"Why are you so rude?" I asked.

Lovino shrugged. "Who wants a potato rolling around? Besides, you upset my brother. You're asking questions we don't like."

"About the maps?" I guessed. Lovino frowned. "Feliciano said that they were burnt."

"So what?"

" _So what?_ " I echoed. "Without maps, you will not be able to return home? How will I get back to my regiment? I know I am not your favorite person, so if I could get this figured out as soon as possible, I can leave quicker. I just want to know what happened to prompt the regiment to stay-"

Lovino tossed another acorn. I stepped to the side, and it bounced into the leaves. "Yeah, I definitely don't like you. You need to mind your own business, jerk."

"Great, now that is settled, can you tell me if the maps were burned in that attack-"

Another acorn pinged off my shoulder. "You talk a lot of nonsense for a German. You may want to stop thinking too much. You'll fry that potato brain of yours."

I decided that I wasted enough time dawdling, so I marched up the hill. Lovino grew horrified and backed away as I neared. "What are you doing?!" I stopped at the top of the hill, surveying the land. "Hey, stupid, I asked you a question!" Lovino swooped down, grabbing another acorn.

I ducked to one side, and caught his thin wrist mid-throw. The acorn tumbled to the ground, and he gawked at me with wide eyes. "I asked you a lot of questions. Did you answer any of them? Why should I tell you anything if you will not do the same? It is as if you _want_ to stay in the woods forever."

Lovino tried to twist out of my grip, prompting to cry out in pain. "Let go of me, you fucking bastard!"

"Stop throwing acorns at me! It was not funny in the first place, let alone the seventh time," I released him before he could manage to injure himself further. Lovino fell backwards from trying to yank away.

"Jerk!" He spat. "You hurt my shoulder!"

I gave him a confused look before charging down the hill.

"Wait! Wait, you stupid potato!" He called.

My feet slowed down, though I did not consider it a good idea to listen to Lovino. Though that would be rather low of myself, so I turned and looked up at him rising to his feet. "If any more of you stupid blond boys hurt my brother, I'm going to kick your ass and stuff your cavity with acorns!"

He spun around and ran down the other end of the hill, out of sight. "That sounds promising," I dully noted, my mouth pulling down. I turned to the trees to continue my search.

* * *

 _A.N.- Does anyone think Lovino sounds like a mafia mandude when he said Ludwig was asking too many questions he did not like? Because I think he sounded like a mafia mandude. :P_


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note- I hope Feliciano's dialogue is understandable. He is not fluent in Spanish in this short tale, but he tries! A+ for effort!_

* * *

The sun did not take its time to dive closer to the horizon. The trees I lumbered pass made a joke of my déjà-vu, losing myself in a strange forest once again, all too soon. The plants grew denser, and I ripped my boot from a tangle of vines for the third time that evening. Yet I kept going, creeping closer to a mass of gray on the forest floor, peeking between the mass of trees.

A large, round boulder sat in the middle of small stones, with Feliciano as the top piece. His back faced me, his face gazing at the blushing skies, and I found myself staring for a breathless moment, my seemingly aimless wandering snapping to a close.

I must have made a stupid noise, or he simply sensed my looming presence. "Ve, Lovino-" Feliciano twisted around and choked off, gawking in fright.

"Uh, hi," I grunted. Perhaps Lovino was correct, saying I was a stupid potato, but I would not give him the benefit of the doubt. Feliciano turned back around, bringing his knees to his chin, and watched the still forest floor. I hesitated. "Feli, are you mad at me?"

He did not answer.

"I did not intend to...upset you by asking sensitive questions. I just want to go back to my regiment. I have been away from them for far too long, and they could be worrying about my prolonged disappearance...yet you know how that feels, right?"

Feliciano peeked to the side before quickly looking away. He began to say something, but cut off, staring into the forest. He picked up again in Spanish this time. "It is not you scaring. I scared hot."

"You are scared of fire?"

"Yes, I scare fire." _Who is not?_ "It was bad. Ate the maps. We have no maps. We go for long time. No home."

"You cannot find your way back home without maps," I agreed. Feliciano shifted on his perch to face me. His eyes were watering and tears streamed down his face.

"I want home," his breath caught. "Mean men come...fire...we go...here...months of trees."

I shifted forward, lingering a moment on my feet before stepping towards the rock. I pulled myself up, and Feliciano scooted over for me to sit beside him, smiling as I came closer. "Were...were you attacked?"

He nodded, his jaw trembling as more tears spilled out of his eyes. I noticed a long scratch on the back of his hand and shakily put my palm against it. "Did they hurt you?"

"Months."

"Oh, it happened months ago?" My eyebrows knitted together, brushing the pink divot across his knuckles.

"I hurt..." Feliciano used his other hand to make a spinning motion to the ground.

"You fell?"

"Yes, I fell," he admitted, giggling uneasily.

I lifted my hand to lightly pat between his shoulder blades. "Err, get well?" He laughed more heavier now, wiping his eyes. "Feliciano, sorry for..." I struggled with words. "Sorry for you crying. I had no intention of upsetting you."

He picked up his head and drew a sleeve under his nose. "Lovino say I cry too much, but...it is bad to...not cry."

"Yes, brothers can be mean sometimes," I murmured. _I would know._ My hand crept over to his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I thought of crying on multiple occasions..." My ears grew hot. "...when I was lost and hungry. I started to think I was going to die without seeing my dogs again."

Feliciano shook once more, but it was from giggling, not sadness. "Ve, Ludwig has dogs? Dogs...cute."

 _Yes, cute._ I gulped. "I love my dogs. They must be missing me, being gone for so long. They are most likely thinking I left them without returning. Then again, dogs are smart animals. They must know I am coming back."

More laugher. "You speak of dogs...a lot."

"Erm, yes, I really like dogs, I guess," I scratched my cheek.

Feliciano leaned against my arm, still staring. "Ludwig not hurt?"

"Am I hurt? No, nothing of recent-"

He shook his head. "No, you not hurt...us? You are good?"

"No, I would not think of hurting you!" I said a bit too harshly. His eyes widened, and I forced myself to relax from sitting rigidly. "Erm...I would not think of hurting... _anyone_ from the regiment."

Feliciano made a noise of content, and I was momentarily freed from his warming gaze as he looked around the trees. He grew silent, shallowly breathing as the evening breeze tossed a few loose leaves across the ground.

"We go to...hurt others. We sleep, and mean men come," he began suddenly. I blinked open my eyes I did not realized slid close. "Surprise...they hurt us...we go fast...they had big things...fire...we did not have...a lot."

I remembered the tank rushing forward on the drawing, a large billow of fire consuming their old camp. "Y-your regiment...went to fight?"

He nodded. I could not imagine him doing something...anything related to war. _Maybe I am simply underestimating him._ Shooting a gun and killing people is not as glorious as it is portrayed in books and the news. I once caught my brother tear up after a horrid campaign, and he was the bravest person I know.

Feliciano started to sniffle again, pressing his hands over his eyes. "Hey," I said, my hand tightening its grip on his shoulder, but not in a harsh manner. He picked up his head and looked at me expectantly, waiting what I had to say, but whatever I was planning to tell him evaporated, leaving me to gape like a beached fish.

 _That was weird._ "Uh..." I tried again. "Don't cry?"

He made a puttering sound, glancing away. I did not know if it was more mourning or laughter. I grumbled and wiggled around on the rock, the cold surface numbing my rear. _This situation was not amusing! I completely lost my thoughts! Was I mentioning my dogs? That seemed likely..._

 _War, war. How could I forget about_ that _?_ The pair of amber eyes gazing was the most obvious answer. I still had yet to propose my idea about the regiments coming together! "Ludwig does not know...but it is nice to speak..."

"What?" I said stupidly for the time I lost count.

"You do not speak Italian...but I like talking...of things..."

I nodded. "It is nice to listen." After a moment of gathering what I wanted to say, I cleared my throat. "Feliciano, I have been considering this for at least a week...My regiment has maps...maps your group needs to get home."

Feliciano seemed puzzled before his eyes widened.

"Y-you see, my regiment is using these maps to meet up with another garrison down South, and if you are still looking to go back home...we could travel together...as a single regiment...for the trip."

He leaped away with an exclamation of shock, gawking at me, and spewing more Italian. I grimaced, not knowing if he was angry or happy.

"Did I...upset you...again?"

Feliciano vigorously shook his head, raising his hands. He repeatedly gestured with his palms shaking, struggling for words. "We...I...um..." He must have decided throwing his arms around my neck would convey his feelings on the matter better.

"Oh!" My legs twitched. "I take that as you like my plan?"

"Yes! Yes! Luddy save us!" Feliciano rocked us both side to side.

"I-I would not say save...really," I coughed, giving his back a few reassuring pats, mostly to stop the motions. "I still have to find the regiment, and even then, I have to bring up my idea of merging the two groups."

He slowly unlatched his arms to rest his hands on my shoulders. "Your men...are mean?"

"No, no! They are not... _mean."_ Suddenly, the tree to my right looked interesting. "These are men I trained with months in the academy! They are brothers from another set of parents, but they _are_ still men of the military. They will be expected to follow the usual procedure when they meet an unfamiliar regiment."

Feliciano did not say anything, so I turned to glance at his frightened gaze. "If the Italian regiment shows that they do not mean any harm, the interaction should go smoothly."

He slowly nodded. "You help us. I like you, so...maybe...they like you, too."

I think he meant to say he trusted me, but who knows what is running through that mind of his? I did not know, and I certainly did not expect him to press closer for _another_ hug. _How many hugs were sufficient to express gratitude?_ I usually thank the person and shake their hand...

"Ah, Feliciano, if you want to get home as soon as possible...we should go back to your camp right away..." I closed the eye that was being tickled from his hair.

"I like...here," he said, murmuring more in his natural language.

"Yes, but..." I trailed off, the slight scent of tomato sauce still lingering from his presence wafting into my face. My first guess was right. The pasta _has_ mind melding abilities. That would logically explain why my thoughts were going numb as my heart hammered at the same time.

"I like here," Feliciano repeated.

"I...I like it here, too. It is bright...sunny...warm..." I backtracked when I realized I was not describing the Italian landscape. "When I left Germany, it was snowing for the third time that week."

Feliciano shook with laugher. He leaned away to look at my face. "No, no. I like it here with you!"

"I understand...we both enjoy one another's presence. That is what friends are for, right?" My voice raised an octave at the end. Friends! Feliciano could be my friend, and we could do things friends do, like talk about how mean our brothers can be, or get lost in the forest! _Friends do that, right?!_

"No!" _No?!_ "Yes, yes! I say yes, friends, but..." Feliciano huffed, growing red with the mental exertion of thinking too hard. I tilted my head. _Did he want to say more?_

The sun was just touching the ground, and I glanced in its direction worryingly. "Really, Feli, do not strain yourself. If you do not know how to say it, then do not say it. Now, in the meantime, we should go b-back...to...uh..."

I trailed off with stupid stammers as he leaned in again and stuck his mouth to my cheek. Feliciano made a drawn out hum before releasing me with a loud puckering noise. He beamed, proud of what he done as I raised a gloved hand to the wet spot on my face.

Giggling from my turmoil, Feliciano threw his legs off the rock and jumped to the ground, landing with a crunch on the leaves. "Hey!" I called out, but he dashed into the trees.

 _Damn, he is fast! And what the hell was that about?! Friends do not give each other kisses! Do they?! Have I been being a friend wrongly the whole time?_ I wiped my cheek. If only it were only that easy to banish the hindering haze that made my face feel like it was melting!

As I leaped from the boulder, I gave my face a few concerned pats. _No, it was still intact._ I streaked after Feliciano, catching glimpses of blue between the trees, traveling the way back to camp. I hope the others understood the situation of the regiments as easily as Feliciano did.

Suddenly, Feliciano skittered to a halt, almost falling forward with a high cry of fright. He spun around to run in the opposite direction, barreling into me. I grasped his shoulders, earning another scream. I flinched and shouted, "It's me!"

He fell silent besides his panting from running and fright, staring at me with quiet terror. He raised an arm to point in the direction of the camp. I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong, but a high whiny shot out between the trees. I stiffened, not daring to breath as other, lower noises of collective voices bounced across the forest.

"This way," I hissed, pulling Feliciano parallel to the camp. He gasped and spewed words I could only guess where questions I could not answer. "Hush, Feli!" I warned. I left my rifle in the medical tent. If we sneak in there, I would feel much safer and braver to face the intruders.

 _Dammit, who would go after such harmless people?_ There were no more than fifteen men in the Italian regiment; I forced myself to accommodate Feliciano's shorter strides when he vocally broadcasted his exertion. I led him in a wide arc, cutting to one side, to the back of the camp.

I saw the dirty white material of the medical tent ahead of us, my eyes on nothing else. Feliciano shouted something, yanking on my hand. I snapped my head to the side at the sound of drumming on the forest floor, the thundering vibrations running beneath our feet.

A white horse, of all things, charged through the trees towards me, and all I had time to do before I would be trampled was to make a sharp twist and give Feliciano the strongest shove I could muster, my boot sliding on the loose leaves, and I fell forward while he fell back away from me.

The horse's cries covered the sound of my breath flying out of my lungs from the impact, and I crunched into a ball, hands clamping over my own head instinctively as its hooves raised into the air.

* * *

 _A.N- Oh shit. Oh shit!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note- Bros, dude. Bros._

* * *

" _Scheiße!"_ I heard the rider wail, and my head snapped to the side, expecting to see nothing but a pair of hooves smash down onto my face, but instead its hind legs stumbled a couple of steps backwards, the front ones flailing in mid air from a rough yank on its reigns. A body thumped onto the forest floor, and the horse landed on all fours, snorting and trotting in circles away from us.

I gawked at the man sprawled on the ground, delirious from still being alive. He cussed again, in German, and I took this opportunity of him moaning and groaning from being flung to shamble through the leaves, tenting myself in front of Feliciano, who sat up and cried my name, throwing his arms around my shoulders. I scowled at the man shift in the leaves, and he stiffly sat up. The hat on his head slipped from his head, tumbling to the floor, exposing a mop of white hair.

The man stared back, rosy eyes widening. " _No way! Ludwig?!"_

"Gilbert?!" I cried out, my shoulders slouching. Feliciano made noises of confusion as I shot away from him, scrambling to my brother. He held his arms out just in enough time for me to slam into him. The air escaped from him in a great huff as I knocked him to the forest floor, and he breathlessly laughed, drumming his hands against my back.

"Yeah, what the hell, Lud?! I thought you got eaten by a bear!"

I quickly sat up, letting him do the same. "Do they even have bears in Italy?"

"Do they?" Gilbert wheezed with laughter. I missed the sound. "Damn, I almost forgot how beefy you are! I think you jarred my lungs out of place!"

I chuckled, roughly patting his shoulder affectionately. Much gentler hands clutched onto my jacket, and I looked to the side. Feliciano wound his arm across my chest, as if pulling me away from Gilbert. My brother's mouth formed an O as his eyebrows raised. "Hey, Lud, I think you have a shadow!"

"Ludwig, who is this? He looks weird!"

"Feli!" I tried to say in a scolding manner, but my words were to full of laugher. "This is my brother! Gilbert." I said in German, "This is Feliciano. He's part of an Italian regiment he took me to after we...erm, ran into each other in the woods."

Gilbert tipped his head and smiled. "I guess that's a story for another time." He grunted as he pulled himself to his feet. "The regiment right here, you are talking about?"

"Yes, are they okay? They are a lost troop from the First Phase, and they are harmless. Please do not frighten them. They might scatter...again."

"Well, let's see to it," my brother gestured to the trees, glancing at Feliciano with a grin, who whimpered and hid behind me. We quickly followed, and I saw the Italians huddled together by the pit, wide eyed and shaking visibly. I caught the _very pissed_ eyes of Lovino, glaring as if to say, _This is all your fault!_

I did not worry about that at this moment, taking in the sight of my regiment surrounding the campers, murmuring to themselves. Some turned and recognized me with their shocked expressions. "Commander!" One called out. "These men just surrendered and clumped together in the middle of the camp when we surrounded them! What are your orders?"

"You are not going to hurt them, right, Gilbert? They are not enemies, after all," I set an arm out across Feliciano, who called to his brother.

Lovino curled his nose. "Stupid German! What do you think you are doing, bringing all your friends here? Who gave you an invitation?" He turned to the closest soldier and spat at him, "Stupid!"

The man did a double-take and frowned. I continued, "They were unable to return back to their homeland because of a raid in which their maps were destroyed. I was thinking that since we were headed that way..."

Gilbert rubbed his jaw in a thoughtful manner. He raised a hand to capture attention. "All right, listen up! We are still sticking to our original plan of regrouping the Southern garrison, but there is going to be some tweaking! This regiment is one of our old allies, so we are going to treat them like pals, okay? They want to return home, like anyone around here, so we are traveling together!"

My regiment glanced amongst one another and some even shrugged. The Italians, however, stared with wide eyes, not understanding. Gilbert called out, "Who here speaks French?"

"Italian, Gilbert."

"Yeah, that's what I said. Come on, these men look as if they are about to soil themselves, and I do not want to be smelling that on the journey!" Gilbert beckoned the regiment to collect itself, the men relaxing their grips on their weapons, effectively easing the other troops.

Feliciano dug his nails into my jacket. "Ludwig, what is happening?! They hurt us?"

"Do not worry, you are safe," I turned to face him. "You are going home!"

"What?" He gasped.

"My brother agreed. Our regiments are going to be traveling together for a while!" A stupid smile plastered itself on my face, only to faulter when I heard a snappy voice behind me.

"I have to smell Germans _all_ the way home?" Lovino pinched his nose. Feliciano gasped and said something to his brother, who huffed, "No, I will not be nice!" He crossed his arms, looking away. "But that does not mean I will not be...civil. After all these months of wiping my ass with leaves...we are going home...Thanks, potato bastard, I guess. Your regiment better not lead us into France or whatever! Eugh!" He threw his hands in the air, turning away. "I don't know who's worse! Well, hurry up, Feli, we have things to pack up. Err..." he realized he was not speaking Italian, and prompted his brother in their language before joining his group.

I noticed Feliciano no longer smiling. "Is something wrong?"

Feliciano took a step away from me. "We go...not together..."

"What do you mean? This is what everyone wanted! You are going home!"

"I go home...you leave..."

"You...you do not want me here?" My voice broke, and I cleared my throat. "Feli..."

Feliciano shook his head. "No! I...I want...you..."

I felt my ears burn. "Err, what?"

"I want you to...not leave, yes. Not leave...when we go home."

"O-oh, of course..." I sighed, drawing a hand nonchalantly over my cheek. "Wait, you want me to stay in Italy?"

Feliciano eagerly nodded, cracking a smile that squeezed my lungs. "Yes! It is warm, and there is pasta!"

 _As if that could win even the weakest man!_ Yet I must have been him, since I softly smiled and nodded without thinking of doing so. "We are stationed in Italy for at least a few more weeks while negotiations are tried again, Feli, and we have to get there, first...together."

"Together," he echoed, "After talks."

"Huh?" I grunted.

Feliciano giggled. "We talk after the peace talks, too."

 _Did he just bat his eyes at me?_ "Err, yes, of course. We are friends, after all. Friends keep in touch."

 _Not that kind of touching!_ I grunted when he leaped forward to deliver an overbearing hug, his hair tickling my cheek.

"Ve, I am happy!" Feliciano chirped against me.

"I can tell," I noted, uncertainly patting between his shoulder blades, feeling more awkward than ever before in my life. Yet it was a warm kind of awkward, and I decided to return the embrace before we set off to pack up the camp. My head was craned downward, and Feliciano seized the opportunity to attack my cheek again, capturing the side of my mouth this time.

He squealed with delight and ducked out of my embrace as I slapped a hand to my face. Feliciano skittered away, joining his regiment, our regiments, in preparing for the journey ahead of us. I ducked my head, as if it could hide the smokeless fire wafting from my face, not saying anything else as I busied myself, just in case I said something I should not say.

* * *

A.N.- Done! Writing first person point of view of an awkward babe was much more amusing than I thought...

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


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